


Orderly Chaos

by KLegnard



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: A Lot of Death, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Trippy, corrupt government, evil patrick, evil pete, lots of bad guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:45:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLegnard/pseuds/KLegnard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gunshot bit the air with a loud crack. It wasn't unusual to see someone whip a gun out in the bars in this town, you always hear about the recent fights. The strange part was who was wielding it. In all of my life, I had never seen Ryan even lift a gun, which was quite an achievement for someone who lived in these parts. He slowly lowered his arm and I raced to his side. He looked like he was going to pass out</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orderly Chaos

POV: Brendon  
The gunshot bit the air with a loud crack. It wasn't unusual to see someone whip a gun out in the bars in this town, you always hear about the recent fights. The strange part was who was wielding it. In all of my life, I had never seen Ryan even lift a gun, which was quite an achievement for someone who lived in these parts. He slowly lowered his arm and I raced to his side. He looked like he was going to pass out.

The bartender quietly turned the corpse over, and thinking no one was watching, pulled a small leather wallet out of the pocket. It wouldn't have mattered if people had seen him or not. It was quite common for a bar fight to escalate, and if someone died, the whoever owned the property got the spoils. The only problem was that this was no bar fight. It just happened out of nowhere. I was at the counter waiting for my next drink when my oldest brother,Jeremia, walked in. Man, I hated him. He was laying traitor, and he killed our father without even batting an eye. I suppose he and Ryan had a falling out of sorts as well.

There was a heated conversation that I only caught the end of, Jon pulled his gun, and a second later he was dead on the ground, Ryan holding up his own gun. I guess it didn't matter what happened or that he was my kin. I didn't care. Ryan was far more important to me anyhow. What mattered was getting Ry out of there before they came.

I tugged on his arm as hard as I could, trying to budge him. He wouldn't move. After a second of hesitation, I lifted him up by the waist, slung him over my shoulder unceremoniously, and ran. I ran faster and farther than I ever could have without all of this adrenaline pumping through my blood. I headed towards the one place I knew we would be safe. Ryan was still to shocked to realize that I had run, or that now, finally out of sight, I stopped.  
I lowered the guitarist into the grass and slumped down next to him in the darkness. If anyone at the bar recognized us, then we were screwed. There is no way I'm going to let them take me, or Ry, for that matter. I slipped into an uncomfortable slumber beside him.

POV: Ryan

God, what just happened? I looked down at my hands, covered in gun powder. Strange. And... Why am I outside? Brendon rolling over in the grass beside me brought back memories of the previous night. There was this bar, then Jon came in, and... Nothing. Just, nothing.

"Ry?" Brendon muttered, groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "You okay?"  
I answered him after a moment's hesitation. "Yeah, just... What happened last night?"

"Crap!" Brendon looked extremely worried. He jumped up from his spot on the ground, any trace of tiredness now gone. I don't know if he was worried that I didn't remember, that he remembered what happened last night himself, or about something else entirely. He took me by the shoulders and shook me, "We need to leave. Now." His bloodshot eyes told me not to question him, but to understand that he would tell me later. Right now we had more pressing matters on our hands. Though I had no recollection of the previous night, I could put two and two together. First and most obviously was the gunpowder on my hand. I had come in contact with and recently fired a gun. Also, there was the fact that Brendon was far more worried than I had ever seen him, and I faintly recall someone I knew entering the bar. I had shot him. That was that. And if that was true, then Brendon and I were currently running away from them, or, The New Order.

The Order was a group of prudish rich guys who thought that it was okay to imprison someone for speaking out of turn. Jon worked for them. If they caught a whiff of what I had done, I would be done for. Brendon's brother was a main part of the Order, and a few years back he sold out their father for a promotion. Brendon and his younger brother, Billie, hadn't spoken to Jeramia since. Brendon's hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality. Brendon was taking me to the abandoned cabin he had inherited from his grandmother. The two of us had used it as a studio for our band, but we never got past dreaming up songs, to actually writing them. That was years ago and I was surprised that he he'd remembered the way. I guess it was as good of a place as any to hide from The Order. This was going to be a long walk.

POV: Brendon

I probably shouldn't have gotten too freaked out when he couldn't remember last night, because he was drunk, and it must have been a pretty traumatic experience for him. Not to mention, he already had a pretty awful memory. Hopefully he would regain some of it soon. When we got to the cabin, I would fill him in on what had happened, then maybe we could come up with a plan from there. Luckily I still had the key to the cabin, and knew the way there. Somewhat.

POV: Spencer

He shot Jon,he actually shot him. Jon was my best friend. The next time I see Ryan's annoying little face, I'm going to... Well, it isn't up to me to decide. I wasn't of high enough status. I hate being part of The Lower Order. We had to do all of the grunt work while the higher-ups got all the glory. I guess it was worth it if you made it through training, though. Jon was the only member of The Order who wasn't a stuck up butt. He was the only person who really understood what it was like to do all of the hard work, and then get tossed aside as if you were nothing. It was no wonder why he was the closest thing I had to family. Was. Until he got shot. See, I used respect, even like Ryan and Brendon, but they were a bad influence, with all of their running around and robbing banks. Okay, they've never robbed a bank, but if they did, I'd be here. Waiting to get my revenge.

" Spencer!" Pete called. He was part of The Order charged with reprimanding us lowlifes. He ran this place like a slave ring. All work and no play makes Pete a dictating butt-trumpet. I wonder what he wants now.

"Yes?" I pray he doesn't order me to clean the bathrooms. I can no longer look at a tooth brush without cringing.

"That... Friend of yours... What was his name? Oh yes, Jon. Now that he is, how do I put this, deceased, We have an open spot in The Higher Order. Being as he probably told you all about our operations, you would be the best suited for promotion. Would you be interested?" Pete played with a loose thread from his jacket. It reminded me of a cat toying with a ball of yarn. Disgusting.

"No." I couldn't take Jon's position, it would be an insult to his memory.  
Of course, Pete knew my weak spot. "If You join us, You would have access to all of our information and resources. We could... Help each other, do you understand? You take over sweet Jonny's position, we help you catch his killer. Any questions?No? Good. You start work tomorrow. Ciao!" I couldn't help but almost puke at the annoying smile that followed this speech. Ugh, tomorrow. Can't wait.

POV: Brendon

I can't even remember the last time I came here with Ry. It must have been what? Two, three years ago? Yeah, that was the time when he went through his hat phase. Well, it was more like an everlasting love. Anywho, Fortunately, we would hang out here for weeks at a time( it was a long drive), and neither of us grew that much, so the clothes we had left here still fit, if they weren't out of style(I found a hideous sweater with a giant J stitched onto it). Also, because all we ate was candy and microwave Macaroni and cheese, we had a reasonable amount of edible food. We would still need to make a quick run for supplies though. And we can't have Ry seen by the public, so it was my job. that reminded me: if we were gonna stay here, we can't have the Order fallowing our trail.

I opened the door to our shared "room", sat at an old desk, and set to work taking apart our cellphones. I wasn't going to go through all this work-okay, there wasn't a lot of work involved- to haul Ryan's unconscious butt up here just so they could trace our phones. Not gonna happen. Period.

Speaking of Ryan, he just walked upstairs to help me find what we had here that we could use. We were left with several nonperishable food items and some faded tee shirts. And Ryan's gun. I had just finished telling him what had happened on what was now two nights ago, and he took it surprisingly well. I suppose that he had already put most of it together himself. You don't wake up with gun powder on your hands, running for your life with your boyfriend because you thought it would be fun.

Ryan was busy digging through our shared dresser, like he was desperate to find some thing. I leaned over to see what he wanted."Got it!" He cried, holding up a faded, but lovely hat. It was a tan newsboy. Very vintage. I remembered that I had gotten it for him on his sixteenth birthday. Did I mention his hat obsession? In my opinion, the word obsession is a huge understatement. He was my best friend, so I tolerated it, but, man, he could get a little bit crazy about those things. I stifled a groan. Soon he would be lecturing me about the differences between a Stetson and a Fedora. If I remember correctly, there are many.

POV: Spencer

Jon, I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I thought to myself, praying that he would understand. After all, I was trying to catch the people who killed him and avenge his death. I was doing it for him. All for him. Anyone who wants to stand in my way better watch out. I straightened my bow tie, fixed my collar, and marched trough the paneled wooden doors.

"...but if we did that, then the whole city would be in an uproar. We've already got people stationed there, we could always keep this as a private affair." A blonde woman was sitting to Pete's right. She had one of those annoying twinkly voices that makes you want to gouge out your ears, and the habit of scrunching her face in a way that reminds you of a dog that got hit by a truck. A big truck. If I can remember, her name is Lindsay, and people called her the Journalist, though her job has nothing to do with the news. It was more like a gossip magazine. The next person to speak was one I was familiar with. Andy. He and I were the only ones to call Jon by his real name. To everyone else, Jon was The newbie. I guess that's me now. Andy and Lindsay got along well outside of these meetings, but during them was another matter.

"The whole point of bringing them in is to scare the rebels into behaving. If we execute them privately, we can't do that, now can we?" His gaze upon her was cool and harsh. He was a very opinionated man. As he finished saying this he resumed his seat, but not without noticing me. "Come, sit with me, and fulfill your duty as Jon did his. We have much to discuss." He nodded to the seat beside him, and though his words seemed welcoming, his tone was far from it.

POV: Ryan

You'd think being pampered 24/7 by your boyfriend would get old, and you would be correct. At first it was kind of funny watching him bustle around the cabin, looking for this, searching for that, I will admit. Quite frankly, I've been getting restless, and need to be able to do something myself. Brendon kept going on and on about traumatic stress, and needing to sleep, blah, blah, blah. He was also my closest friend, so I tolerated it, but sometimes when I didn't feel like glomping him, I felt like strangling him. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that killing The Watcher wasn't my smartest idea yet. I couldn't take being holed up in this ramshackle place with a crazy workaholic. It gave me time to think, though. a few faded memories of the bar scene even came back to night, now over a week ago, he and I had a conversation. One that I now loathe. One that went something like this:

"Oh, it's You." I was so good with names, wasn't I?

"Yes. It is. How observant. And I suppose that You're You. Introductions aside, I have something more important to tell you. It's about your father. I killed him, and I though that you might want to know. Well, I didn't kill him so much as torture him to the brink of death. The rest was his doing. Suicidal bastard. And now, I'm going to do the same to you, okay?" That was when the gun came up.

Unfortunately for him, I have been living on the outskirts of town my whole life, and I've picked up a few things. Number one: how to disarm someone with a gun. Number two: just because you like boys doesn't mean you're weak. I guess that was the end of that tragically short conversation. In all honesty, I didn't care about what he did. I was never close to my , and I'm sure that she died happy knowing that I was a failure. I only wanted to defend myself. Whatever. I need a shower.

POV: Brendon

I could hear the water running in the bathroom above my head. It was remarkable that the plumbing still worked. Just imagine if it didn't. Ryan said he needed a shower, but so do I, and he needs to hurry the heck out of there. In the meantime, I managed to fix the oven and make breakfast. All I could find that wasn't moldy or expired was a few canned items. Today's menu, bottled water, canned soup, and a crunchy granola bar. It was basically the same meal every day for the past, like, week. Delightful. Note to self: go shopping later. Also, find money. All I've got is spare change left over from the bar.

So far, The Order hasn't come marching down our front door, so I guess we're lucky. It's not like they aren't looking though. I've seen the cheesy wanted signs posted around on my various trips home for supplies and stuff. It seems that we are quite the topic of conversation nowadays. I actually like all of the stories that they tell about us. I guess that I'm a bank robber now, and Ryan is a serial killer or something. And that was only one example. Fun. We'll probably be holed up here for a while, so we should at least enjoy it. Anyways, I think I heard the bathroom door open upstairs. 

POV: Pete

"No, We can't give up! The whole reason that I accepted your offer was to avenge his death, and that is exactly what I'm going to do!Besides, you guys promised!" The stupidity of some people, god. I was in Lindsay's office, pacing back and forth and flailing my arms like a madman. She had just proposed that we stop our search for Ryan and Brendon. Obviously I wouldn't take that well.

"Relax, it's only a temporary hold on the search. We just have more important things to deal with than the inner turmoils of a little kid." I can't believe she just called me a little kid. It didn't matter how high her heels were,or how dowdy she dressed, she was actually younger than me. And it wasn't up to her to decide whether or not I could continue my search. This matter was to be debated by The Order later this afternoon, and I was determined to convince them I was right. I would get someone to help me. Or I would have to take this into my own hands.

Oh the nerve of that insufferable brat. After I had pulled the strings to get him into this business, he doesn't even say thanks. He just sits there and whines. It's not like we wanted to stop his mission, but we were low on resources after that raid in Balderdash, and he couldn't be spared. I do want him to find his friend's killer, really, but... We needed him to work on other things for the time being.

"Pete, stop sitting around, we were called to Order. We need you to keep your little brat in line." Lindsay was sitting in my office, trying to get me to deal with Spencer. Or, I guess now he was The Watcher. I was so tired of Lindsay pretending like she was in charge of me. The order from highest status to lowest actually went:  
Gerard- oversees everything  
Ryan-in charge of entertainment industries  
Brendon-is the entertainment industry  
Pete- teacher of the lower order, runs meetings  
Andy- involved in underground threats  
Lindsay- interrogation and stenography  
Jon, now Spencer- espionage, arrests  
Joe -spying, information  
And Patrick-also known as The Joker  
No one really knows what The Joker does, most people host stay away from him. He dealt with torture and information, but beyond that, he was a mystery. I remember one night when I happened to have a run in with him, but it was brief, and went, until now, unmentioned. It was the day the Ryan and Brendon disappeared, actually. He was a very suspicious character, his eyes constantly shifting from place to place, and his fingers twitching underneath red velvet gloves. His appearance wasn't even near as odd as his speech. He seemed stuck between a stutter and a lisp, and had terrible diction, but intelligence and superiority shone trough the words he chose. Clever words. Lets see if I can recall them.

"Pete, a strange occasion to witness you around these parts. What can I... Do... For you?" His hands slid behind him to hide... Was that blood!? No, just a trick of the light. I'm positive. Aloud, I said,"Yes, um... I'm just..." The sight of the blood had startled me, and for a moment I had forgotten my job here. Boss wanted me to deal with some rebellious troublemakers in the order. And I didn't want to know what he meant by 'deal'.

"Are you busy? I have a job for you, involving a certain pair of our members. They are yours to... Use." I waited while The Joker contemplated this. After a second, he looked up at me, his eyes piercing and cold.

"I will do it gladly." I wasn't sure why it took me so long to realize it, but I got the feeling that he wasn't right in the head. Now I'm positive about that now. I stared down at the files in front of me, files on Ryan and Brendon, also known as the boys who murdered Jon.

POV: Brendon

"Bravo," Ryan applauded as I unplugged the small electric keyboard. Don't ask me how, but after years, it still worked. We had spent the majority of the day on our old instruments, trying to come up with songs that didn't make you shudder and saying bravo, I think Ryan was just being nice; his songs were so much better. He could actually picked up an old guitar off of the rack and started tuning it. It was in terrible condition, yet he always managed to produce the greatest sounds. It was like the instruments liked him better or something.I was always so jealous. I sat back on the moth-eaten couch to listen.

POV: Ryan

I still don't understand why Brendon completely lacks all self confidence. If I had a voice like his, I would probably be so full of myself. I was always so jealous, and he didn't even realize his gift. The only reason I kept playing guitar was for the chance to one day perform with him. I sighed and started to strum a few chords on the old acoustic. It sounded okay, for a piece of junk I found at a garage sale. I hummed along after a second, thoughts returning to his voice. He just wasted it. After a minute or so, I pulled my song to a hands slowed their plucking at the strings, and I returned to my seat besides Brendon on the couch. As I sat, he flipped my hat off of my head and put it on himself. It didn't look totally ridiculous. Fedoras were definitely his thing. I, on the other hand, tended to stick with newsboys. The two of us just sat in the silence for a moment before he got up to take a leak. I leaned back on the couch, threw my legs onto the coffee table, and closed my eyes...

"Stop! Don't hurt him!" A familiar voice pleaded across the room. I attempted to turn around, only to find myself tied down, thick rope burning my wrists. "Please, no!" Someone called again. I was soon aware of a strange tingling sensation in my right arm. It was going numb, possibly due to the hot metal being pressed against my skin. Thank God it was numb, because I don't think I would be able to withstand the pain otherwise. After a second of thought,I realized that I did recognize the voice. Brendon! Why was he here? The weight of the metal left my arm as my captor left the dingy room, but not without first sending a forceful kick James's way. I couldn't bear to see my friend hurt, and attempted to cry out, but the only sound escaping my lips was a dull whimper. "Brendon..." I finally choked out...

I woke up to a dull throbbing in my side and arm. For a second I thought the dream was real, but I had only fallen off the couch and landed on my arm. I immediately felt stupid. Brendon was standing over me, looking worried. It reminded me of him calling out in my dream. I was thankful that he was okay, not shackled to a wall in that horrible place. I still couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than a dream, though. It was far too vivid.

POV: Patrick

Useless skull brains, I thought, opening the door to find... Pete. He looked different than he did the last time I saw him, three years ago. He had more wrinkles, and a deep shadow beneath his eyes. He pushed past me, slamming a pair of file folders on my desk. I recognized the pictures from somewhere... Oh yes. The "two order members." Also known as Ryan and Brendon. I had worked that case, a long time ago. And by a worked that case, I mean torture. Pete himself assigned them to me. They were sent to me under interesting circumstances. No one was to know of my task. They were to simply 'disappear', and the rest of The Council none the wiser.

It was quite the fun job, the cries of the two boys echoing in my ears still brought me great joy. I dearly hope they catch them, so I can reintroduce them to my old tools, and acquaint them with several new ones. Oh, I can picture it now. Taking my precious time to scar their precious bodies. But I suppose that wont happen like that, Pete was glaring at me in a way that clearly meant business.

POV: Brendon

I hadn't noticed that Ryan was gone, I had just woken up to find the top bunk empty, the sheets tangled and hanging off the sides. The window was shattered, and bits of glass coated the carpet, and the lamp on my desk was on its side, the bulb still glowing. One of The Lord Of The Rings books open on the floor. Honestly, I preferred the movies. Then it registered. Ryan was gone, and I needed to focus. Any want for sleep was quickly replaced with panic and worry. I attempted to tell myself that maybe Ryan was just going to the bathroom or something, but deep down I knew that this wasn't true. Ryan was missing, and I had the bad feeling I knew why. I ran out of the cabin cursing, only a pair of sweatpants and a tank top to fight the cold.

POV: Ryan

I was jostled awake from the van hitting a speed bump. Wait...van? Speed bump? My mind finally registered what had happened. I was up late reading, James already asleep on the bunk beneath me. The book in my hand was The Fellowship Of The Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien. It was one of my favorites. I hope it didn't get ruined in the struggle. Right, priority check. A big macho man in a stereotypical kidnapper outfit, a black suit, crashed through my bedroom window(Brendon sleeping through the whole thing), and smothered me with a towel I assume was covered in chloroform. So, that leads me here. I'm in a small van, with one driver and two burly looking fellows with cheesy suits. Someone needs to stop watching James Bond, seriously. Okay, so that's three people... With guns. Cool. Escaping should be easy... ish. I'm not even going to try, I value my life. The one man sitting shotgun was the one who came to my room and snuck up on me. I recognized him purely because of the thin scar running from the corner of his eye to the base of his left ear. It looked fresh.I praise whoever gave it to him.

The only thing to make this seem more like a crappy black and white movie would be if they were wearing dark sunglasses. Despite this situation, the thought of being kidnapped by LILO and Stitch's Cobra Bubbles was really funny. Insure that by now you all think I'm insane, don't you? Well, you would be correct. The only thing that really bothered me was where they were taking me. I recognized this road, and I could only guess at what was in store for me. Wait a minute... This house... Isn't it the same one from my dream? Oh, crap! I remember now. That wasn't a dream, but a flashback! I hope James is okay, because I don't want to live through that again. Although, if my thoughts are accurate, I probably won't survive this anyways.

We pulled into the driveway of a run down two-story building. It looked like it was a very fine establishment in a past life. Even if I had never seen outside of that room in my dream, well I guess it wasn't really a dream, I would still be able to tell. It just had that sort of vibe, y'know? Scarface- that's what I'll call the one that isn't Cobra Bubbles-opened the back door and yanked me out of the van. Bubbles held open the door to the house, and I took a deep breath.

POV: Patrick

Oh, I could hear the engine die outside, and I shivered with anticipation. I sat in my living room, ropes and a gag ready for use. This was the moment I had been waiting for. This was the moment I had dreamt of. Tonight I kill Ryan.

POV: Brendon

It's been three hours since I noticed him missing, and I was preparing to go out and look for Ryan myself. They had literally done nothing for me at the police station, and I figured it was because they were happy about Ryan being held captive by over-patriotic scumbags. I practically had to run out of there after they recognized me. Whatever. If you want something done right, I guess you had to do it yourself.

For some unknown reason my feet seemed to know which way to turn. All I had on me was the clothes on my back (I had changed into something more reasonable than my nighties) and a set of paring knifes I grabbed from the kitchen. I don't know why I hadn't thought to bring Ryan's gun, but I liked hand to hand combat better anyways. It was more my style. Unfortunately, I also hadn't thought to grab my bike, and if I was correct, it would be a long walk.

POV: Pete

I couldn't help but shudder after that meeting with Joker. I had asked him to do something so grotesque, but he smiled as if I had asked him to pick up milk from the grocer. He looked so happy about being asked to torture Ryan and Brendon again, I actually felt somewhat sorry for the two of them. It didn't matter, though. I had to get rid of them and clean up this mess the Order caused years ago. Spencer would be so happy to learn of this accomplishment. I best get back to the city.

POV: Brendon

I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. I had been doing a lot of this on the way to save Ryan. Stupid asthma. From where I stood, there was about a half an hour left of my walk. I was almost there. I had no clue what I would do when I arrived, but I know I would figure something out. Taking a deep breath and facing forward, I continued on my track.

POV: Ryan

Once again, the whip flashed across my face, a trail of fresh blood seeping down my face. It stung, god it stung so much. It took all of my willpower to keep from crying out. I refused to do so, would just be playing into his hands, and i cant show weakness. There he stood, The Joker, standing tall in his leather boots. His once stark white scarf now a deep brown, presumably from bloodstains. I shuddered thinking about the others who had been here before, including Brendon and I. The Joker's face was partially consumed by shadows, but what I saw of it would haunt me for years to come. If I lived that long. Icy blue eyes shone brightly in the dark. He laughed sadistically at my pain, and I could have sworn he had fangs. Wow. I had definitely lost way to much blood. His demonic grin was the last thing I remembered before the black tendrils of unconsciousness once again dragged me down.

"Ryan, you may now rise." I remembered this moment. This was my being inducted into the Order, nearly three years ago. Wait... I was a part of the Order?... Yes... I was. They called me a leader. Brendon and I were promoted from the lower order on the same day. We were the only ones 'fit for promotion' they said. He became the... Um, oh yes! They referred to him as a Useless Idiot who only knew how to play a few songs on the piano. He did have an excellent voice. It was no wonder why the two of us became instant friends. Even though neither of us agreed with the order's ways, we knew it was important to provide for our families. Our duties consisted mainly of entertainment. I could play any instrument handed to me, and Brendon's voice would drift through the air at my side. But... Why had I forgotten?...

"Hey, Ry!" Brendon's voice shot through the empty hall. We had been planing to escape the order that night, and I had wanted to go over final preparations. We were sick of how they controlled the media and the government, dictating people's every move."I think everything is ready. " we would have interrupted tonight's meeting with a homemade gas bomb, if things had gone as planned. While we had assumed that we were the only ones in the hall, we were had been waiting outside in the entrance hall to pick up on any juicy gossip that she could find. Her main duties consisted of spy work and gathering information, so it was no surprise that it was her who turned us in. She led us down the corridor to a small and primarily unused conference hall. Pete was there, along with another man i had never seen was the first time I had met the Joker, and it was a memory that I'd rather not dwell on.

I awoke once more to a burning pain, and this time, it was a feeling I had felt before. Hot metal on blistering flesh. Only this time, Brendon was not here to share my pain. I was alone, but at least this meant that the most important person in my life was not receiving the same treatment as I. I was thankful for this, and prayed that he was as far away from here as possible.

POV: Brendon

Finally! I brushed aside some spiderwebs and opened the ground floor window of the Patrick's residence. It seemed like nothing had changed since the last time I was here. As much as I liked to pretend otherwise, I knew that I was part of the order,and I remembered all too vividly the screams of my love just last year. Not only had I wanted to forget, I had assumed that it would be best if I had just pretended not to remember, and maybe it would all just fade away. It hadn't, and painful memories struck me day and night. The worst of it was the cries of the boy I knew I couldn't save. Now, still too soon, I could hear those screams again. It must have been terrible if Ryan wasn't able to remain silent. He was always the stronger of the two of us. I didn't want to think about what they might be doing to him in there. After wandering around the building for a minute, I arrived to where the screams were coming from.I had arrived at the door behind which Ryan was bound, and braced myself for what I may find.

POV: Patrick

The handle of the door turned and in sprang Brendon. This was a shame, because I was just getting to the fun part of my night. But, to be optimistic, this was just another guest to play with. I noticed what he was clutching in his hand. A kitchen , this kid must have been stupid to think he can fight me with silverware. Who does he think he is? Sebastian Michaelis? Highly unlikely. I flung a set of nun chucks off of the wall at him, and to my surprise, he dodged it. He dodged one of my throws! Inconceivable! The kid even got in his own shot. fortunately, he only barely nicked my arm. I aimed yet another weapon at his head, and once more, he dodged shot forward with the speed only an Order member could posses. He managed to dart past every one of my attacks, occasionally landing a few blows himself. I was tiring fast, and something had to be done. I grabbed the almost-corpse of his beloved 'Ry' off of my workbench, pulling his head back by his hair. "One step closer and he dies." I put my knife to his throat, cursing myself for using such a cliché line. I needed to stop watching bad movies.

POV: Brendon

I struggled not to gasp at the sight of Ryan lying there on the operating table soaked in his own blood, and lunged forward with a new rage towards The Joker. To make matters worse, he snatched Ryan and held a knife to his neck. I felt stuck. If I moved, he would kill Ryan, but if I gave in, he would do the same. I stood there for a moment, thinking up a way out of this, but could find none. Luckily, that old saying about cornered cats being most dangerous and stuff applies to humans, too. No one hurts my friend and lives. Silently, I prayed that I wouldn't hit Ryan. I sent a knife flying towards him and it struck its mark. The Joker fell forward onto his own work table. My vision blurred as I ran to Orian and tugged at the bonds on his wrists. I checked his pulse to find him alive, but barely. Barely was enough for me.

"Brendon?" A hoarse voice murmured. Ryan.

"Don't say anything. I've got you, Ryan. You're safe."

"You knew." It wasn't a question, but I wouldn't have been able to answer anyways, as Ryan had once more slipped into unconsciousness. I watched him relax in my grip, ashamed that I never did tell him the truth. I would explain everything when he woke again.

POV: Ryan

I was aware of something soft underneath my head, and I was wrapped in a warm blanket, a strange feeling after that night at the Joker's. All I could recall from then aside from my regaining memories was pain, lots of pain, Brendon entering, and shouting that sounded faint and far off. And that Brendon knew. He knew it all along, and he never once thought to tell me. This had hurt more than anything that The Joker could throw at me. I was going to confront him. Now. I sprang out of bed, marching down the hall to where he was watching Les Misérables on the Xbox. He looked up at me, relieved, and started to get up. I stopped him before he could approach me.

"You knew. You knew, the whole time, and you didn't think it was important to mention it!? How could you!? I had every right to know, it was my life! And now, how can I trust you to tell me the truth about any thing!?" I continued yelling at him for quite a long time, and he just sat there and took it. He didn't even try to defend himself. I could tell he thought I was right. To me, that was worse than him yelling back. I desperately wanted him to say that he did it for me, and that I was an ungrateful jerk, and he just saved my life, but he didn't, and it was all because he was too kind of a person to do that. That was why I liked I had finished my rant, I was red faced and breathing hard, and he cautiously replied:

"I know what I did was wrong, yes, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I felt it wrong to put such a burden upon you, and you have every right to stop trusting me. I won't even try to beg forgiveness, but I want you to understand that I would never outright lie to you." And with that, he left, the front door slamming behind him. I turned around and fell to the couch, crying. The pain in my side not even coming close to the pain in my soul.

POV: Brendon

Tears flew by behind me as I ran, as far away from Ryan as I could get. I couldn't believe what had just happened, but more than anything I wished that things could just go back to how they were before. Before we had to run, I mean. I hated Ryan for shooting Jon, I hated the Joker for hurting Ryan, hated The Order for what they did to us, but most of all, I hated, no, detested myself for lying to Ryan. If I could go back, I would have never have lied, and never have asked him to leave the Order with me. Then maybe we could actually have normal lives, and not have to worry about all of this stuff. At that moment, I felt a strong pain in my chest, but not only from losing my best friend. It was from a hand pistol.

POV: Ryan

Brendon's funeral was held the next morning in the city. Upon his death the Order was disbanded and our good names restored. I suppose the city gave him such a nice burial because they felt guilty about how they had treated us. The city was still rebuilding a new form of government, but it would get there eventually. Brendon's killer had been caught, but only because he was killed as well. The Watcher, I guess Spencer didn't last long, had gotten his revenge. Thankfully, I didn't have any avenging of my own to do, as his body was found in the woods near the cabin. Apparently he had been shot by with own gun. On another note, Pete went on a rampage after his little clean up job failed, killing everyone in The Order. That should have satisfied me, but I was to upset.

I hated myself for shooting Brendon's brother. Sure, I hated Spencer for killing Brendon, but mainly, I hated myself. Though it was Spencer who had pulled the trigger, it was my fault. I had scared Brendon off. I couldn't bring myself to attend his funeral, staying home, overcome with guilt. If I hadn't yelled at him he would have stayed, and he was only trying to protect me. He was the only love I had ever known, and I couldn't bear to see him laid out, wearing a cheap suit that hid the bullet hole.

Spectators came to feign sadness, if only to appear as if they really cared. Brendon's younger brother, Nathandriel, was there, and he asked me to attend the funeral with him, knowing how guilty I felt about it, but I couldn't. It was too hard. My eyes trailed to the gun I had used on Jon. Every morning I had the same thought. Maybe today would be the day I pulled the trigger, but Brendon had always stopped me, whether he knew it or not. He had been my closest friend, and the only thing keeping me grounded. He was my anchor, but now...I had deeply considered using it now, and after Brendon was shot, as I really had nothing else to live for. maybe there was some sort of heaven, but even if there wasn't, I longed to be reunited with Brendon. I stood and picked it up, fingers trailing over its smooth and shiny surface. For the first time in a long while, I had felt at peace. I closed my eyes and smiled, knowing that soon I would be able to apologize to the man I had wronged.


End file.
